


Through the Evening, 'til the Morning.

by LilyIsMilesAway



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyIsMilesAway/pseuds/LilyIsMilesAway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre is in love and it's affecting his concentration a little too much for Enjolras' sanity. </p><p>Modern AU. Inspired by The Divine Comedy's 'Commuter Love'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Evening, 'til the Morning.

**Author's Note:**

> So... Hum... This story was originally inspired by Commuter Love, by The Divine Comedy. And let's say that the Muses went a bit wilder that I expected.

“Combeferre, where are the pamphlets for next Saturday’s protest?”

“Oh, shoot!  I forgot!”

Enjolras came closer to his best friend, as he didn’t want to shout what he had to say across the room. It wasn’t like him to forget that kind of thing. When Combeferre said he would do something, he’d do it. Even better than anybody else. It was part of that perfectionism that made them best friends.

“Are you OK, mate? You’ve been off these last weeks. Since the beginning of the semester, in fact. You know that if you want to talk, I am here, right?”

He felt that it was sometimes he needed to remind his friends that he was in fact ready to listen to their problems, like an actual friend would do. His reputation as a heartless revolutionary had sometimes resulted in people forgetting this, even the people closest to him..

“No, no, it’s OK.”

And the medical student left.

* * *

The next day, Enjolras was sitting between Bahorel and Courfeyrac who were arguing which James Bond was the best. Needless to say, that kind of conversation was fairly boring. And that Law Initiative he was trying to edit wasn’t much cooperative. So he just sat back on his chair and looked at the people around him, observing them, hoping that maybe inspiration would strike again. What’s more inspiring that the people you’re fighting for?

All his friends were joyfully talking. Most of them taking part at that particularly vital conversation about the fictional spy. A few of them were talking about other subjects, like Feuilly who was talking to Combeferre about the dramatic situation in Syria. The tall man seemed to be miles away. Which was confirmed when Feuilly seeks his neighbour’s approbation, only to obtain absolutely no answer. At the third try, finally, he reacted, as if he suddenly woke up. He apologized, claiming that his internship at the hospital was exhausting. He then got up and left. Enjolras didn’t lose a second and followed him. 007 could wait.

Once out of the pub, he tried to find his friend. God, he was a quick walker; no sign of him in the street. The best option was to go home, Combeferre would be there already, if he didn’t catch him at the tube station.

When he finally got in their flat, the place was still dark. He knocked at his friend’s door, no answer. That was quite curious. Almost worrying. He sat at the kitchen table and started working on his initiative project.

Three coffees later, he finally heard the door slamming shut. He immediately stood up and went to his friend.

“Where were you?!”

“The overprotective mother role doesn’t suit you, Enjolras.”

“Seriously, where were you? I came home immediately after you, I wanted to talk, and you weren’t there.”

“I walked. I needed to think.”

The law student sighed, passing his hands on his face.

“Just go to the living room. I’ll come back immediately.”

He then went to his room and came back with the bottle of Scotch he hid on the bottom of his wardrobe. The one that only see the light for special and desperate occasions.

“Is there a problem?” Combeferre asked, his eyes on the bottle in his hand. “That’s your Granddad’s whiskey, and that’s never good news.”

“You tell me.”  He answered as he put the bottle on the coffee table, and went to take two glasses in the kitchen. “These last few days, you haven’t been yourself. You tell us it’s the internship. I know it isn’t. We’re friends since childhood, I know how you are when you’re under pressure. And that’s not the case here. So, now, we’ll have a real man-to-man conversation. And you’ll tell what’s going on before it gets worst and you kill a patient.”

“I’m only an intern, I could hardly kill someone, Enjolras.”

“True, but at this point, I think you might be able to anyway. Now, sit.”

Combeferre seemed to realised that it wasn’t negotiable, as he took of his coat, hang it on the rack and came back to sit next to his friend who was pouring two generous glasses.

“Now what?”

“Now, drink. Santé!”

Reluctantly, he obeyed. And for a moment, the room was silent, as they relished the drink.

Seeing his face, Enjolras realised that he had made the right choice. His friend needed that.

“Now, tell me. Whatever it is, how ridiculous it is, how bad you think I will react, tell me. I’ll try to be a civilised, sympathetic and friendly human being that you have attempted to teach me to be all our life.” He shifted a bit. God, being a good friend was hard! “Please, it kills me to see you… In pain?”

His friend seemed to hesitated a moment that seems longer than an eternity. God! He didn’t have that much time to lose with this! And after a few false starts, he talked at last, his eyes fixed on his empty glass.

“There… Oh, this is ridiculous! …  I know you want to do good Enjolras, but I doubt that you’d be able to help me on that.”

“Just tell me. Didn’t you taught me that the most important thing about being a good friend is to listen, whatever stupid thing people had to tell? So, now, I’ll listen, and I’ll do my best not to cringe.”

“OK.” He sat straight and, at last, said something that was actually useful.

* * *

“It’s this girl.”

The blond man rolled his eyes. That was the worst scenario ever.

“Enjolras, you said you wouldn’t! This is serious. Do you know how many times I wanted to talk to someone about it and eventually chose not to because this was the stupidest thing ever? But there it is. There is this girl. And she… obsesses me. I can’t spend an hour without thinking about her.  You know I’m not Courfeyrac, or Jehan, who fall in love everyday, at least twice, and fall out of it almost as instantaneously. I’m not Bahorel, who don’t care, and just enjoy the company without worrying about the consequences. Nor am I Grantaire who does whatever he wants… No, I’m the considerate, sensible guy. The stupid one, according to some… How many girlfriends have I had, huh?”

Quite a few, Enjolras remembered. Combeferre had always be the nice guy who would carry his girlfriend’s books, watch girly movies with her (even though they most often were the kind person who rather enjoyed Discovery Channel or Arte, quite like him). Quite paradoxically, he had never seen him celebrate Valentine’s Day, which might have caused him some problems. But yes, Combeferre had always been reasonable in his love life and seeing him being obsessed with a girl was like seeing Bahorel agreeing to a second date.

“Indeed, but what is stopping you from asking her out? It had never been an issue before. It sometimes took you time, yes, but it never prevented you to function before. You burned the pasta yesterday!”

“I don’t know her. I only see her on Monday mornings. She takes the 6:23 bus too. She’s always already there when I come there. I passed just right behind her and I can smell her perfume. There is musk and something else that I can’t really identify… And there is always her hair flying around, with her every move. They’re brown, but when it catches the light, it’s suddenly become ginger. It’s absolutely fascinating. She’s absolutely beautiful.”

Enjolras pours himself another glass and sits back.

“I don’t know her name, I know nothing about her. And she definitely knows nothing about me, and, even more certainly, doesn’t care. She’s like a deity fallen on earth. Nothing seems to touch her. She stands on the platform, reading her book like if there is nothing else. And the books she reads. Every week, it’s another one. And it’s not the last Marc Levy, or Musso, no, it’s one of those books that I honestly thought only I knew about, because I’ve been that weird bookworm all my life, or even scandalous writers, like, I don’t know, D. H. Lawrence, Flaubert or Baudelaire. The other day, she had that battered copy of Frankenstein… She’s just perfect.”

At last, he raised his head, to see a defeated look on his friend’s face. The Law student was squarely terrified. What had that woman do to his friend?!

“Oh, I know what you think, but I’m not obsessed with her, like I would follow her in the street, and lock her down in the basement. I just… And it’s not just lust either, although she’s extremely beautiful, with voluptuous curves and legs longer than one of your speeches. She just feels right. I want… Oh, God, this is ridiculous…”

Enjolras fought hard the urge to agree with that last statement.

“I just want to be close to her and maybe I would read to her, through the evening. And, till the morning, we would talk about all those things we’re passionate about..”

He then stayed silent for the longest time, until he grabbed the bottle and drank right from it.

“I’m doomed. But don’t worry, in a few weeks, my schedule will change. I’ll never see her again, and I’ll forget her. There is no reason that I wouldn’t be able to. There is thousands and thousands of girls like her on this planet.” He looked straight into his friend’s eyes, with desperation and whispered, “Right?”

After that last word, he left to go to his room. Enjolras heard a humpf, as he fell right on his bed, not even taking time to undress himself. What disaster had he set foot in?

* * *

For the next few weeks, they didn’t talk about it again. Enjolras tried, not to be easy on his friend, he would never do that, but to help him in his own way. By giving him even more work than he usually did, and reminding him his duties twice as many. Or by calling him out when his mind seems to wander. He was efficient enough, so nobody saw that Combeferre wasn’t at his best. Some of them, mostly Courfeyrac, enjoyed gossip and taunting their friends about their love life. It was always playfully and they always meant well, but, the Law student decided, the less Combeferre heard about the woman, the quicker he would forget her. The day his schedule would change couldn’t come soon enough.

And it went well, until a day in November, when Marius chose to bring a new recruit for their group. They were all working in the backroom, the clot hadn’t been there for a few weeks, and despite, Courfeyrac’s protestations, Enjolras was already considering him as an ex-member of the group. So, it was a surprise, when he came, late as usual, to the meeting. He was smiling, as if, the new addition to the group would make up for his less that perfect attendance. Fool. Worst than that, the said addition was a girl, not that he minded, in absolute terms, but the guys seemed to be distracted by them, especially when they looked as attractive and… exotic as this one.

“Sorry, I’m late, but it’s the first time Éponine could come here and she finishes work at 5.”

Enjolras grunted more than he answered. And the guys immediately went to her, as if they were bees and she was the only flower in the meadow. Ridiculous.

He was about to call them to order when he saw Combeferre, still standing at his place, not moving a muscle. He was looking at the others as if…

“Hoy! Combeferre, have you seen a ghost, or what?” asked Joly.

Combeferre came out of his trance, whilst all his mates turned to look at time.

“No, no…”

Enjolras looked closely at him, who was still staring where the woman was standing, and talking to Grantaire who had apparently immediately adopted her.

It wasn’t possible. No. He barely restrained himself from slapping his face. What were the probabilities that the girl Marius brought was the one Combeferre was obsessing about? How he saw it, it could only end badly for his friend. That girl he describe that night couldn’t be real. She would inevitably disappoint him. Or worst, he would scare her with the way he almost crept around her.

It was his job as a best friend to prevent this. Who would help him if Combeferre were crushed? Who would talk with him about his projects? Put his ideas in to the test? Reason with him? Prevent him from being his crazy dictatorial self? And remind him that he needed to sleep once in a while?

He had never really been a good best friend, he had to confess. Human interaction wasn’t his forte. This was the occasion to prove himself as a good friend. Combeferre seemed way too smitten. He would fall from the highest place if something had to happen between him and this girl.

The man standing there, looking at that woman like she was the eighth Wonder, was not his best friend. His best friend was a reasonable man, not the kind to fall in love with a complete stranger. He was no romantic, like Prouvaire could be. His best friend needed weeks to take the decision to ask a girl out. This couldn’t be anything real.

Of course, he himself had never felt those urges; he could not understand what was happening. To a logical man as himself all of this was not understandable.  But Combeferre was a reasonable man as well; his mind was not beyond reach. But their conversation, as they were going home, wasn’t as successful as he had hoped. The ecstatic friend he had to deal with was not ready to be reasoned with.

* * *

And yet, from that day the Law student had been witnessing the fall of his friend. In fact, he seemed rather to rise, suddenly standing taller than he already was at the second she was entering the room. He had always been a calm and almost timid man, the observer, staying in the back, and now, he had a new project everyday. Even though he had never been too reluctant to come to the meeting, he could have been, occasionally late, as his readings were holding him, now, he was always the first there, even before Enjolras.

One of the things that were always an apple of discord between the two friends had been the way their revolution had to be conducted. Enjolras had never hidden that he thought that it had to be by cutting the head, the rotten part of the body, a quick and efficient solution. Combeferre, on the contrary, had always favoured education, reminding to anyone who would listen that ‘he who opens a school door, closes a prison’. Despite this disagreement, they had always been quite efficient in the way they conducted their group, thanks to Courfeyrac, who, in a way, shared his enthusiasm [bellicism] with Enjolras, but had an understatement of the human mind close to Combeferre’s. But now, now Combeferre had a new ally. The girl, as a future teacher, shared a lot of his views. And unlike Combeferre (who, even if his family were not as rich as his own, had grown up in a nice and calm suburb) had a background worthy of a naturalist novel from the 19th century. Her vocation  came from a love of books that was apparently as immense as the medical student’s and was also due to a past as dark of a moonless night, and to her desire in helping children who were growing in situations as unfortunate as her own.

Naturally, this share of beliefs draw them together right away. At every meeting, they were whispering in their corner, as if they were sharing secrets, talking about miraculous solutions to helps underprivilegedchildren.

Those secret conversations quickly became real projects and too often, they started to see each other outside of the meetings, as they needed more time to plan those. One of those nights, when they were certainly working at the library, Enjolras was in the living room, trying to read and musing about the situation. For the first time since a very, very long time, he was feeling… alone. His best friend had previous relationships, but never had they taken him so much of his time. Even at the worst periods of his studies, either studying in his company, or in his room, occasionally coming out for breaks. That discreet and silent company was, he realised, quite comforting. And, even the quiet smile his friend was almost systematically wearing as he came home from those meetings were not helping accepting this, as they were reminders of an upcoming disaster. And that night, it did not fail, when he came back around midnight, he was even humming a song.

Enjolras closed his book with a clap and greeted his flatmate that he hadn’t seen since the day before and asked, “How are you dealing with her? Must be really awful to work with her so much, after having lusted for her for weeks?”

At the second he had talked, he knew he had been a bit too harsh, but his friend only smiled. “No, it’s great! She so smart, our conversations are so interesting. I think that half the time we just talk about books and films and arguing about it. But when we actually work, it’s just so easy, as if we were sharing one mind. She has so much input, thanks to her experience, which is kind of sad. But I think that’s what makes her so interesting, she has so much strength and she has so much to tell.” He lowered his head. “But she doesn’t talk but about it. She doesn’t seem to trust people. All I’ve been able to gathered was because she let it slip or because Marius said it to us. I wish she could trust me like she trusts him.”

And here we go! Here was the catch. She was in love with Marius. As soon as she’ll discover that Marius had met another girl, which will come soon enough, thanks to Courfeyrac gossiping talent, she’ll suddenly get bored and leave the group. But what was he supposed to say to his friend? ‘I told you so’? No, because, first, he didn’t and, second, contrary to the popular opinion, he wasn’t heartless, and it was obvious that his friend was already completely aware of the situation and didn’t need get salt rubbed in the wound.

“Hum… Don’t forget that tomorrow’s meeting is at seven instead of six, tomorrow.”

And he went to his room. He felt bad, leaving his friend like that, but he was honestly unable to say anything that wouldn’t seem hurtful. He knew that Combeferre was relatively understandable, but he had never seen him so smitten. How much did it changed him? He wasn’t ready to take that many risks.

* * *

Éponine’s more than obvious crush on Marius didn’t seem to discourage him. He was out the flat as often as he did on the last few weeks. And it was for the better, as their project was now quite far along.

“She’ll get over him soon. She must be, or he’ll crush her, he’s so obviously in love with Cosette,” he heard his best friend whispering as they were both tidying up the tables after their last meeting. The woman was laughing excessively at one of Marius and Courfeyrac’s jokes. Enjolras didn’t know what to do, except, giving him a tap on the back, as he had seen the others do a thousand times when one of them was upset.

“Well, if she doesn’t, it’ll be the finale proof that she’s stupid and didn’t deserve any attention.”

“Enjolras! I know, and understand, that you are not looking for that kind of relationships. It’s your right. But, it doesn’t make people stupid to want it. Look at our friends; they all in their own ways look for some sort of companionship. Think of Jehan, falling in love every day, still, less than a month ago, he helped you writing that speech and just a week before that you were telling everyone how badass he was for standing up in front of the cops. Éponine isn’t stupid. She has a Bachelor’s degree in French, English and German, just started a Master’s degree in education. All that by working two jobs. And I won’t even talk about her childhood, because I don’t know enough, and she’s obviously not willing to share much of this, but you wouldn’t survive a week in the same conditions. Being in love doesn’t make you stupid. I’ll concede that it’s more than evident that she’s condemned to be disappointed with Marius, but I think that she’s has been feeling lonely most of her life, and even if she certainly know that he’s crazy in love with Cosette. She is just too afraid to be alone again. What we – and you as well – need to do is to show her that she’s one of us, that she has friends here.”

The Law student snorted. “You certainly do that very well. What is your excuse?”

His friend looked at him in surprise. ““That’s really low, Enjolras. I don’t need any excuse. Yes, I admire her greatly, but there is nothing going on. I wouldn’t dare trying anything in this situation. I just content myself with her friendship and our work.” He added with a weak smile. “Besides, we’re almost done. In a week, after the rally, we won’t see each other as often.”

He then left the room, not even waiting for his flatmate.

* * *

The next couple of weeks, Combeferre was even less at home. And Enjolras knew that he was avoiding him and not only because as his project went on he started to be even busier than he already was. Enjolras chose to let him be. Maybe he would realise that his relationship with Éponine was as bad as hers with Marius. How could something that started with what almost compared to creepy stalking, end well? Impossible.

This went until the rally that he and Éponine had organised to fund their project. And standing in the middle of kids running and laughing, he had to confess that event had been very thoroughly prepared. And he could tell that it wasn’t only Combeferre’s work. He was way better than Enjolras when it came to children, and could even be considered good with them, but his mind was sometimes a bit too abstract for them. It was easy to see that she had to take care of younger siblings. After all, that girl had some values.

“You’re Julien’s best friend right?”

He jumped as she came just right beside him. A bit too close in fact. She was the kind of person who enjoyed physical contacts. He had a second of hesitation; he wasn’t used to hear his friends’ first names, as they were usually calling each other by their surnames in the old army way. Even Combeferre, whom he knew from way before that time.

“Yes. Why?”

“I was… wondering if you knew if he was seeing someone.”

“Not that I know of.”

“Hum… Thank you,” she answered in a falsely nonchalant way.

She then gave him a bright smile and left.

He wasn’t particularly proud to answer this, as it went against his plan to protect his friend, but he would never go as far as being dishonest for that. And, if he had to be truthful, seeing her walk to Grantaire as if she was keeping herself from dancing kind of reassured him. Maybe Combeferre was right, and getting to know them, and the Medical student in particular, she was slowly getting over Marius. It didn’t resolve the issue of the creepiness of their first meeting, as he liked to call it, but maybe this could be passed over too.

* * *

Combeferre’s mood seemed to be a bit under the weather on the days after that rally. And Enjolras, who didn’t dare to ask, after that disastrous conversation, wondered if it had something to do with the fact that he wasn’t seeing Éponine as often as the last couple of months, only on the usual group meeting, in fact, as it was enough for them to carry on working on their project, and that meeting was planned for the end of the week. Three days to go. The Medical student kept repeating that he was glad that it was over, as he had more time to work for Uni, but his way-too-frequent-for-Enjolras’ sanity sighs were telling another story. He was close to call her and to tell that whatever were her plans about his best friend, she had to hurry.

The Gods seemed to have heard him because, one afternoon, as they were both working at the Musain, and Enjolras trying to not kill his best friend, Combeferre got a call. Surprisingly – after almost twenty years of friendship there is nothing to hide anymore – he left his chair and went outside to take it. And when he came back, he was smiling like he had just won the lottery.

“Éponine?”

“Yes, she asked me if I wanted to go to the cinema to celebrate the rally’s success. They’re showing the National Theater version of Frankenstein. And since it’s a novel we both like and she’s heard it was absolutely beautiful, she invited me. Isn’t that great?”

“I am sure it is.” That novel was certainly a great one but Enjolras, as hard as he was trying failed to see why his friend was so enthusiastic about it. Maybe one of those relationship things he didn’t get. Although, Éponine choosing his flatmate’s favourite novel was kind of comforting.

After that, the sighs didn’t stop, but those new ones were different, they sounded pleased and were, oddly, slightly less annoying. But only slightly. This lasted until Thursday night, when Combeferre was supposed to meet Éponine.

That night, it was rare enough to be mentioned, Enjolras fell asleep before his flatmate came home. And he left too early to see him in the morning. They only saw each other again at the meeting. And, the least he can say is that his best friend was in a good mood. But something had changed between Éponine and him. He couldn’t say what, but it started with them both smiling at each other when they thought nobody was watching them. And not once, Éponine looked at Pontmercy with those longing glances.

* * *

Whatever they had from that day, they apparently chose to keep it a secret. Even from Enjolras, even though he already knew everything since the start. Which was kind of ridiculous. Combeferre started again to be away from the flat a bit more often. On the other end, Éponine came at their flat regularly. At first, Enjolras found it annoying but soon enough he got used to it. The three of them would either be working together at kitchen table, as both best friends were used to, or Combeferre and Éponine would go to the living room or to Combeferre’s bedroom, watching a film, talking or do whatever they were up to, letting Enjolras working alone. They settled in a nice routine and Enjolras who was at first afraid of being abandoned by his best friend at first realised that wasn’t. And he even took upon himself to give them have some intimacy by staying longer at the library or at the Musain. Which give him the occasion to know the guys better, as he realised that Combeferre has always been some sort of social crutch.

Even weeks after the others were seemingly not aware of what was going on, even Courfeyrac who was known for his taste for gossips. They were pretty safe as Combeferre was, after all, the most perspicacious of the lot.

Some day, Lesgle came to Enjolras and asked him: “I know that you don’t care about those kind of things but I was wondering if you could tell me. Are Combeferre and Éponine a thing?”

“Let me guess, there are bets?”

The clumsy Law student played innocent.

“If you are asking if If I walked in the room while they were having an intercourse, or anything close, no, I did not. If you are asking me to take a guess, I will not.”

“But… Maybe Combeferre told you something?...”

“No, he didn’t. I’m sorry for you all.”

“Are you really sure you don’t want to take a guess?” he asked a last time as he stood.

“Lesgle!”

And the other men scampered in the direction of the others, shrugging in defeat.

But soon enough, both Combeferre and Éponine got comfortable enough to show signs of an involvement, even though they were rather reserved. But nobody could’ve missed the hand lingering a little too long on a waist or the sweet words whispered for the other’s ear only. Nobody dared to talk about it, though, or even pronounce the word couple or anything close in front of them – Éponine in particular, since Grantaire had to face her death glare.

He only had confirmation of their involvement a few days later, as he was standing right next to the window and saw a very tall figure holding a much smaller one’s hand, in front of the of a building on the other side of the street. The man’s chestnut hair reflecting the light street lamps was unmistakenably Combeferre’s, and, he guessed, the woman with brown hair was certainly Éponine. Although he felt guilty by spying on his friends, he observed the whole scene. Like witnessing a car crash, people say; it was exactly that. The man’s hand was on the woman’s shoulder, as if he was unsure. Then he raised his hand and put it on her cheek, removing a strand of hair, and he lowered his head, closing the distance between them. And Enjolras felt too much like a voyeur and moved away from the window. A whole quarter of an hour later, if not more, he heard Combeferre entering the flat.

* * *

For Enjolras, even if Combeferre didn’t complain once about it, it was clear that, in those conditions, this relationship would end badly. His friend, even if he was rather modest and timid, was also honest and straightforward in his own way. Being-in-a-couple-without-being-in-a-couple, friends with benefits, or whatever they called that wasn’t his thing. Quite the contrary. Even more so when he knew how smitten he had been since the very beginning.

As he expected, it didn’t take long for it to blow up. A Saturday night, as he was reading in the living room, the front door was slammed, making him jump. He could tell by the footsteps that his best friend was very upset. Short after, it was his bedroom door’s time to be slammed. Enjolras immediately stood up and went to Combeferre’s room but not before fetching, not the special whiskey, but the cheap one Bahorel or Grantaire had forgotten on their last improvised party at the flat, and glasses.

He found him pacing in the middle of the room, mumbling, gesturing wildly. He sat on Combeferre’s bed, waited a moment for his friend to calm down, but very quickly got impatient.

“Sit and talk to me.”

His friend jumped, he was apparently too angry to see Enjolras coming in. He had to take a second before moving.

“What happened?” he asked.

“We… I believe we broke up.”

So, they were indeed together. He wondered for a second who won the bet. He waited another second before asking again. It wasn’t the time to be heavy-ended, but at the same time, was he really willing to hear about his friend’s love life?

“What happened?”

“I don’t know…” He sighed and rubbed his face in his hand before carrying on. “I… I was talking with Sophie, outside of the hospital, you know, the girl I was in surgery with. She asked me to help her with some plumbing issues at her flat. Then Éponine came.  It was great. I haven’t seen her in three days, because of my hectic medical intern schedule, so I was really happy to see her. And she had brought something to eat for both of us. Absolutely delicious! Something was off, but she refused to tell me anything. Then, she asked about Sophie. And when I told her about her plumbing issues, I don’t know why, she just snapped and ran. I tried to run after her but the Gods were against me as the bus was right there, she just hopped in and it left. And I was standing there like an idiot, panting. Then, I try to call her but she ignored my call. So I sent her texts, telling her that I would come to hers right after my shift. And that’s what I did. And there she refused to come down to open the door. I absolutely have no clue.”

He stood up again. “I just don’t know what to do, Enjolras. I’m lost.”

And he sat back, giving Enjolras the opportunity to hand him a glass of whiskey. For a moment they were both sipping it silently.

“I’ve always known relationships were stupid.”

“Don’t say that. Relationships are great. I know what you think about romance and sex, or rather, what you don’t think, but think about friendship. Wouldn’t you be lost without all of us?”

He poured himself another drink. “Éponine is the greatest. We would talk for hours about everything. Sometimes arguing, but that would be the kind of argument that would make you grow up. Sure we have some issues, I have a really hard time making her talk about her family or her past, but she’ll come around, one day. And if she doesn’t, it’s not a problem, that’s not my role to fix her. No, it’s to love her, and be there when she needs me, the past is the past and can’t not be change, but I’d do anything to build us the brightest future if she lets me.” After a moment of hesitation, he had, “And, on top of that, she’s the most beautiful girl in the world.”

He downed his glass in one swallow. “You know, sometimes, I really think that she might be the one. But now, I’ve done something stupid and I don’t even know what it was.”

And he let himself fall on the bed. A few minutes later, he was snoring. Enjolras removed his shoes and pull him, so his whole body would lay on the bed, and, after putting everything back in the kitchen, went to his room. What happened was pretty obvious, even stupid, but, apparently, even people are as clever as Combeferre and Éponine would be blinded by love.

* * *

The next afternoon, after checking on his flatmate who was still in bed after two p.m., he went across the street, and ringed until Éponine came down to open to him. It took some time but she finally came. Before she had even time to tell him to leave, he had already walked past her.

“We need to talk.”

She didn’t say a thing but showed him the way. She was living on top of the building, in a small attic flat, that counted only one room, plus a tiny bathroom. She had managed to make the most of that room, even though still smelled like drain.

“Sorry for the smell, there is a leak and the caretaker isn’t really eager to fix it. Coffee?”

He nodded and sat on what he thought might have been a sofa, a long time ago. After handing him his cup, she asked.

“What do you want? Are you here because of what happened last night? Isn’t he old enough to defend himself?”

Enjolras took a sip before answering. God! That coffee was good! He couldn’t mess up with her today.

“Yes, I think there has been some misunderstandings. And I think that, being in love, you’re both too stupid to solve it by yourselves. I know you have trust issues, I know you’re somehow afraid of commitment. I don’t know why, I don’t care, that’s your problem. But what I know is that you had a fit of jealousy and that was seriously uncalled for. If you’re dating him, you must know Combeferre well enough to know that he’s the most trustworthy and honest guy on earth. And he’s also the friendliest one. So when he said that he was helping her, it’s not some excuse to go to hers and screw her, he was actually talking about doing some plumbing.”

“Yeah… I’m sorry, I may have been too quick in my judgment. I snapped and I left, mostly because I knew that if I stayed, I’d say something hurtful and ruin it. Do you know how many times my ex told me he was ‘helping’ some friend with his car, and was just around the corner screwing some pouffiasse? And the arsehole looked as butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. And that’s only the nicest of the stories I could tell you. So, forgive me if I have doubted Julien’s story.”

That conversation, as short as it was, had only confirmed him how all of this made perfectly reasonable people into idiots.

“Well… That’s only my opinion, and Combeferre has certainly already told you, I’m not good with people. But you ought to tell him more, to explain him things. I’m sure he already trusts you with his life. I’m sure I’m already saying too much, but it seems important that I say that but he had already fallen for you before actually knowing you. I think that, whatever you’re fearing, you’re safe. Combeferre is a prudent guy, he had already waited months before asking a girl out, to be sure that he was really in love with her. You did break all the records, but I believe that he wouldn’t have asked you out or accepted your invitation if he wasn’t 100 % sure. People always talk about never hurting others on purpose. They are evil people next to him.”

She shot her a dubious look.

“I’m not trying to overselling him. The way he always see the best in people is one of the most annoying things on earth. But I know that if someone would ever lose that trust, it would be deserved and definitive. If I were you, I wouldn’t take the risk. Again I’m not asking you to tell him everything right now, just explain things when it’s needed. Combeferre will not judge you.”

He stood up, ready to leave.

“Now, I’ll give you the mandatory best friend speech: if you break his heart, I’ll make your life hell. And if you think you already went there, you obviously don’t know me.”

* * *

When he got home, Combeferre was up. Still in his clothes from the day before, but awake. He was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a coffee.

“I went to talk to Éponine.”

“You did what?! I know you thought that getting with Éponine was a bad idea, but it wasn’t necessary to actively ruin it. We were apparently doing great by ourselves.”

A bitter Combeferre was definitely the most curious thing to see.

“I know you might have been able to solve it by yourselves. But you might have blown it as easily. And I saved you a lot of time and arguments, I think. I believe it went well. But you know, next time you promise a female friend that you’ll help her fixing her sink, just think of resolving your girlfriend’s plumbing issues first, especially when that first female friend has an obvious crush on you. And I’m not only talking metaphorically. For the rest, I’ll let both of you deal with it. I think I’ve already overstepped my prerogative as your best friend.”

He then went to his room, he had barely made two steps that he heard his best friend calling him.

“Thank you. Be sure that I realise how tedious it must have been for you.”

* * *

As he had planned, it didn’t take much time for Combeferre to go across the street with his toolbox and finally spend the whole night there, for the first time. It did, however, take a little more time for Grantaire and Bahorel to officially win that famous bet.

There had been a lot more frictions, a few more fight, but Enjolras didn’t take any part in resolving the issues. The first time was an exception that he was not willing to repeat. And, he had heard that what people called ‘make-up sex’ or even ‘angry sex’ were ‘the greatest’. True or not, he wouldn’t dare denying that to his friends.

 


End file.
